


Love-In-Idleness

by infandomswetrust



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Henry, Charles Des Voeux Being Sassy, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Philosophy, Poet Henry, Poor Henry, Professor John, Quarantine, Slight Voyeurism, Teasing, a lot of teasing, lockdown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23703370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infandomswetrust/pseuds/infandomswetrust
Summary: The lockdown is hard on everyone, but Henry can't bear to see his husband so on edge.- Modern Bridgelar AU where Henry and John are quarantining in their flat in Kensington and try to make the best of it. -
Relationships: John Bridgens/Harry Peglar
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	Love-In-Idleness

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is by no means intended to make light of or exploit the current situation. Writing it helped me cope, and I hope reading it might do the same for you.
> 
> A few sidenotes:  
> \- I call Peglar Henry because my simple brain gets too confused if there's two Harrys.  
> \- You didn't honestly think I'd make it through a whole Terror fanfiction without mentioning Charles Des Voeux, did you?  
> \- This fic is full of UK references, because I guess I miss it. This is the longest I've gone without going back there. I'll explain all references -including literary ones - in the end notes!
> 
> Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own

Most people would think that it should have been easy for an English Lit professor and a freelance poet to endure the lockdown.

That much may have been true for the poet. While Henry missed his friends and lamented the fact that he and John couldn't spend their afternoon in the park on sunny days, his personal routine also hadn't changed much. He still got commissions, there were still the occasional sales of the volume of poetry he'd managed to get published, and his deadline for the _second_ volume was in summer. He wrote whenever inspiration struck - which happened so often that he couldn't remember a time he'd gotten Christmas, birthday or Valentine's day gifts that hadn't involved new notebooks.

Of course it was nice to walk the embankment and let the tourists taking pictures of the Eye across the river, the boats passing on the Thames and the cyclists speeding past inspire him. But it was just as nice to sit curled up in his wingback armchair - an antique his parents had given him and John as a wedding present - and let the view of the unnaturally empty streets of Kensington inspire him. Or, of course, watch his favorite inspiration pace from the office to the living room. Despite their age difference, John had always been the more outgoing and lively of the two. Where Henry was content with a quiet night in, John loved taking him to restaurants, galleries, libraries, plays and book fairs. Even the occasional pub crawl, though Henry tried to keep those to a minimum. He probably went out more often in a week with John than he'd do in a month on his own. So, really, he should have known this would be hard on John. As happy as they both had been at first to get to spend entire days together for once, John lived and breathed his job. John without teaching was like a fish without water. If he could, Henry was certain the older man would have married his job instead of him. Whenever Henry teased him about that, John reminded him that without his job, they would have never met.

Henry had been studying Creative Writing and English Literature at London Met, a fact that he was now thankful for, because John's employment at the University of London meant that they had never been in the position of being student and teacher to each other. It was Henry's friend Charles who'd studied English Lit at UoL, and for months, Henry had only known about John from his friend's praises. Then, on a foggy September day, Charles had roped him into coming to the UoL library with him to help him find sources for his bachelor thesis, and Henry's life changed forever.

*

_He didn't mind helping Charles. To the contrary, he loved the Senate House Library, but on that fateful day, he didn't focus much on books. Barely an hour into their work, Charles looked up from a thick, worse-for-wear looking book on fables and waved at an approaching man. Henry turned to look, and couldn't quite deny the hot twist in his stomach as he took in kind eyes, a handsome face, a well-kept salt and pepper beard..._

_"Mr. Des Voeux," the man said, his words warm with gentle humor, and Henry knew he was in trouble. "Already on Aesop's tail, I see? Knowing you, you'll be done with your thesis before the rest of my students have even settled on a topic," he added._

_So this was the famous John Bridgens. Without thinking, Henry spoke up to agree._

_"For the past week, I've felt like Phaedo talking to Socrates," he hummed. In hindsight, he knew he'd only referenced Phaedo to get John's attention, but, well, considering it had worked, he wasn't too embarrassed about it. The handsome man turned to Henry, and the moment their eyes met, Henry was struck by lightning and filled with electricity that hadn't run out or even weakened in the years since._

_"Plato?" John had asked, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at Henry's joke. "Are you studying philosophy, then?"_

_"Creative writing and English lit," Henry corrected, starting to grin just slightly. "At London Met."_

_John laughed at that and turned to Charles. "Bringing the competition to our institute, Mr. Des Voeux?"_

_"He pays 70 quid for this, I just enjoy reminding him I have free access," Charles shot back without so much as looking up from his book._

_Henry bit back a grin and saw that warm glint of amusement in the aging professor's eyes again. Maybe he stared into those eyes for too long, or maybe it was just too easy to read him, but John had evidently caught on._

_"If Mr. Des Voeux can spare you for a few minutes; there's a wonderful interpretation of Phaedo in the metaphysics section, if I recall correctly."_

_By the time Charles had his bachelor, Henry and John were dating (and had done more than read books between the shelves in the library, but what happened in Senate House, stayed in Senate House. Henry paid £70 for it, after all)._

A soft sigh tore him from his memories.

John had stopped in the middle of the living room, a frown etched into his beautiful face as he studied the clock above the kitchen door. Henry got up from his chair quietly and pressed himself to his husband's back, arms snaking around his middle.

"... Cassie forgot about her tutorial again?" he wagered, resting his chin on John's shoulder. The one thing keeping John sane were his Skype tutorials. There wasn't much his students could do, but for those who chose to spend their lockdown working on papers, John offered regular video calls to give feedback and advice, which most of them eagerly accepted. Giving John's students, most of whom were about Henry's age, a small look into their personal life had been mortifying and amusing in equal measures. Henry could practically hear their gossip.

"She must have gotten the days mixed up," John responded. He was trying to sound casual, but Henry knew him too well to fall for it. He knew how much John valued his Skype classes, how important they were to him in these strange times.

"I'm sure she'll reschedule as soon as possible," Henry tried, but John only nodded absently.

Hm. Maybe he needed to switch tactics.

Pressing his lips to the back of John's neck, he left a slow trail of kisses all the way to the side, where he worked his teeth against the skin gently. "... Any way I could...distract you?" he whispered in John's ear, smirking to himself when he heard his husband's huff of amusement.

With a last glance at the clock, John turned in his arms and Henry bit back his sigh of relief. Luckily, John started kissing him that very moment.

"Last night wasn't enough for you?" the older man murmured against his lips fondly. Henry wrapped his arms around John's neck to pull him closer, smiling into the kiss.

"I'll never have enough of you," he responded. He shifted and was about to start peppering kisses down John's neck, but the older man had other plans. Within seconds, he spun around with Henry and pressed him up against the kitchen door, giving him another deep, desperate kiss that left Henry panting.

"We're on lockdown," Henry gasped, trailing his hands down John's front to start unbuttoning his shirt with shaking hands while his husband thoroughly kissed his neck. "Why on _earth_ are you still wearing shirts?!" he continued, tugging at stubborn buttons.

John chuckled, closing his teeth over one of the most sensitive spots on Henry's neck, and the younger man moaned, arching his back. "I was about to teach an online tutorial, if you remember," John murmured amusedly, soothing the bite with his tongue. "Before you threw yourself at me as if someone dosed you with love-in-idleness in your sleep."

Henry gasped out a laugh. This was John, his husband, using Shakespeare references in his dirty talk, and Henry loved him for it.

"There are easier ways of calling me a slut, you know," he teased back, chuckling when John nipped at his earlobe. His laughter turned into a moan when John pressed a thigh between his legs, letting him rut against him as he continued assaulting his neck. "John," he breathed soon, desperately grinding his hips against the older man's leg, but it wasn't enough. "Oh, b-bedroom, _please_!"

John pulled back immediately, his eyes dark and wild with passion, and gave a sharp nod before wrapping his arms around Henry and lifting him without missing a beat. His husband certainly didn't look weak, but most people were still taken aback by the extent of his strength. Henry certainly had been, the first time John had lifted him and fucked him up against the wall in his university office. Back then, it had rendered him speechless. This time, he chuckled as he clung to John, happy and carefree and unspeakably grateful they could ignore the world and everything that was happening for a few hours in favour of the other's body.

When his husband set him down in the bedroom and gently pushed him down onto the mattress, Henry realized he was still wearing that godforsaken shirt. Even if he'd been about to Skype a student, surely a regular _T-shirt_ would have sufficed?! Reaching up with both hands, Henry gripped the fabric and yanked in opposite directions as hard as he could. The buttons went flying and John's chest was bared, but Henry didn't get the chance to enjoy that fact as John seized his hands and pinned them to the bed.

" _Henry Bridgens_ ," John huffed, and despite the blind lust coursing through Henry, his chest still warmed at hearing his new last name, even after almost a year of marriage. "What have my poor shirts ever done to you?!"

To be fair, it really wasn't the first time one of John's shirts had gotten ruined due to Henry's desire.

"Other than cover up your body?" Henry responded with a grin and squirmed until John let go of his hands. As soon as he was free to touch, Henry stroked his hands across John's broad chest, his fingers catching in the thick, greying hair covering soft skin. John used the time to sit up slightly and get their half empty bottle of lube from the nightstand. The urgency in Henry had tampered down slightly, for now, as he mapped out his husband's familiar skin with his fingertips. John's body would never fail to fill him with awe. He'd spent hours exploring and tracing tattoos that were hidden away under John's clothes in day-to-day life, tattoos only _he_ ever got to see. John must have noticed the wonder in Henry's eyes, for he stilled on top of him and watched the way the younger man caressed his chest, handling it like a rare treasure.

Their lips connected again by force of nature and Henry moaned softly into the kiss as he remembered his need, arching up against the solid body covering his own. "John-" he whined, only to be hushed by his husband.

"Sshh, I know," John whispered, his voice deep and low and raw with lust in a way that made Henry shudder. With a few quick movements, John undressed him - _without_ ruining anything - and placed his hands on Henry's knees, his thumbs caressing his skin as he spread his legs. Henry held still, blushing as John studied him. When it became too much, he whimpered, shifting to buck his hips up into thin air. The movement was enough to remind the older man that his husband was _suffering_ and he reached for the lube with a soft laugh. Henry swallowed in relief, spreading his legs wider so that John would have room to take off his own trousers.

The man squeezed some lube onto his right hand and reached down to brush his fingers down the cleft of Henry's arse instead. The younger man groaned, and not entirely out of pleasure.

"Don't you think I'm still loose enough from last night?" he huffed. John didn't take the bait and instead continued to calmly spread the lube over Henry's hole.

"I think you're impatient," he replied, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as they darted up to meet Henry's for a moment. Rolling his eyes, Henry relented and brought his knees closer to himself to lift his hips enough for John to have full access to him. He _barely_ felt the first finger that entered him, safe for some pleasant warmth, and he glared up at John, who laughed and added a second straight away. The older man stretched and teased Henry until the younger man was panting again, his eyes half shut.

Finally, he pulled his fingers out, and Henry bit back a whimper at the loss, but he knew something even better was coming. When he felt the blunt head of his husband's cock nudge his hole, he gasped and opened his eyes. John had finally undressed the rest of the way, and Henry, caught in pleasure, hadn't even noticed. He lamented the fact that he couldn't properly admire the tattoo on John's calf, but his lament was cut short when his husband moved his hips. The head of his cock pushed past Henry's rim slowly, and he fisted his hands in their duvet, a shaky breath escaping him. He expected John to start kissing him again, so when he didn't, he opened his eyes and almost came at the sight of John watching him. His eyes were dark and hungry, filled with lust and love, and he was staring down at Henry as if he never wanted to look at anything else again. It turned Henry into a mess of want, seeing all the desire his husband had for him in those dark eyes. He moaned softly, his eyes closing again when he felt the _smallest_ movement. It took him a moment to realize the feeling wasn't John pushing further in but rather pulling out again, the head catching at Henry's rim. Henry shivered. Before he could ask John what he was doing, the man pushed into him again. Barely. Just enough to get his tip past Henry's opening. Henry groaned, opening his eyes again as John continued teasing him with those small, shallow thrusts.

"John," he panted all too soon writhing against the mattress. "Please, _deeper_ , please."

When they'd first started sleeping together, Henry hadn't been able to read John's reactions. It wasn't that the man was stoic in bed, not at all, but he was quieter, subtler, more reserved. By now, Henry knew his husband's body language by heart, and there was little they could keep from each other. When he saw the tension in John's thighs, the slight tremble in his hands and his lower lip caught between his teeth, he knew the teasing was getting to him too. "Please," he insisted again, squeezing his knees around John and trying to push back against him, to finally get him deeper. He was stopped by a strong hand pinning his hips down against the bed.

" _John_!"

Henry knew, _technically_ , that he wasn't doing himself any favours. John loved seeing him desperate, seeing him struggle and squirm in mounting need, so with every reaction he gave to the teasing, his husband would only want to prolong it. But thinking about technicalities didn't come too easily when one was caught on the tip of a cock with nowhere to go.

When he saw John's other hand move, he cheered mentally, thinking the man was going to grab his hips and finally start fucking him properly.

No such luck.

Staying as he was, the end of his length buried in him, John started stroking himself against Henry's hole. The older man let out a sharp breath, and Henry glared.

"Glad you're enjoying yourself," he huffed, breathless with need, which startled a laugh out of John. Henry would have complained more, had his husband not leaned over him to shut him up with a long, deep kiss. As he tangled his fingers in the long strands of John's hair, he felt a few drops of warmth spilling into him, and suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore. Breaking the kiss with a sob, he pulled his husband down against himself, whimpering into his neck.

" _Move_ , John, I- I can't-" He felt soothing lips press to his temple, before John _finally_ snapped his hips forward, filling him exactly as deeply as Henry needed him to. The younger man saw stars and felt like all the synapses in his central nervous system short circuited at once. He couldn't even bring up the coordination to move, could only cling to John and take it, pliant and loose and in absolute ecstasy. John was kissing his shoulder, whispering sweet nothings to him as he thrust into him at a rapid pace, betraying the man's own desperation. Henry heard his name moaned against his shoulder, his husband's voice sounding deep and hoarse, and the sound made him twitch between their stomachs. Unable to move his arms, he panted, helplessly: "Touch me, touch me, John." Both of them were beyond the point of teasing, and John obliged instantly, wanting nothing but to bring his husband pleasure now.

He pulled back enough to look at Henrys face as he stroked him, watching again, and the younger man got as lost in his eyes as he was lost in pleasure.

"I love you," Henry breathed, and he'd barely finished the sentence when John surged down to kiss him and his thrusts lost all rhythm. Henry gasped when he felt his husband's seed fill him, clenching around him as he followed him off the edge almost instantly with a breathless cry.

Their bedroom fell quiet as they held onto each other, their position unchanged, and caught their breath back. Eventually, Henry managed to let go of John, and John sat up once he had to pull out slowly. Henry made a soft sound at the feeling, but John made up for it by leaning down to kiss him. When his husband got up afterwards to disappear into the bathroom, Henry knew he should follow him. He could feel what John had spilled leaking out of him slowly, and he didn't want to ruin their sheets (again). He curled up on the bed instead of getting up, feeling the pleasant ache in his body. Maybe he just closed his eyes for a bit-

The shrill sound of John's phone alarm startled him enough to make him jerk upright. His husband came through to turn it off. Fully dressed. Henry stared at him quizzically.

"... It's Thursday," John offered, as if that explained anything. "Five to eight," he added, waving his phone. Slowly, it dawned on Henry, but John clarified anyway. "We're clapping for the NHS."

Of course they'd joined in the past couple of weeks. If not out of common decency, then at the very least because one of those carers risking their lives for the rest of them was Harry Goodsir, a close friend who'd been John's best man at their wedding.

But in those past couple of weeks, Henry hadn't been naked, breathless, and in need of a shower seconds before the applause began.

" _Now_?!"

"Go on, get dressed," John laughed, getting one of Henry's jumpers from a drawer and putting it on the bed.

"We can clap again next week!"

"Do you think Harry has the luxury of doing things 'next week'?"

Henry groaned, finally sitting up.

"That is not fair," he grumbled, quickly grabbing a tissue and wiping himself down best as he could before getting changed, all the while pouting.

"You cruel, mean old man," he huffed, gasping in surprise when he was lifted to his feet suddenly and squeezed by two strong arms, his lips meeting John's. Henry's eyes fluttered closed at the slow, gentle kiss, wrapping his arms around his husband and knowing, that no matter what happened, if he kept his loved ones close, he would be alright.

They pulled apart when the sound of cheers and applause began outside, and Henry threw a last, longing look at the bed.

"Cant we just sleep?"

John smiled, taking his husband's hand and leading him towards the door. If they kept their loved ones close, they would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm dedicating this to my twitter rp squad, I love you guys <3
> 
> \- Embankment is a beautiful walk/street along the Thames. The London Eye is visible from parts of it.  
> \- The London Met = London Metropolitan University  
> \- UoL = University of London; the Senate House Library is their central library. UoL students and staff have free access.  
> \- Clap For Our Carers is a current campaign in the UK. Every Thursday at 8pm, brits clap and cheer from balconies, gardens, doorsteps, windows, etc. to show gratitude to NHS workers.
> 
> \- Phaedo is one of Plato's works, wherein the character Phaedo talks about experiencing Socrates' execution day. In it, he claims Socrates talked about Aesop and that true poets must write fables  
> \- Aesop was a Greek storyteller famous for his fables.  
> \- Love-in-idleness is the flower Puck uses in A Midsummer Night's Dream to make several characters fall under an intense love spell
> 
> (no one cares but The reason CDV's thesis is on fables is because he's an animal lover in my hc, and fables commonly center around anthropomorphized animals)


End file.
